


The Edge of the Unknown

by ECA1988



Series: Fire, Meet Gasoline [2]
Category: Houdini & Doyle (TV)
Genre: Gen, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Series, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ECA1988/pseuds/ECA1988
Summary: Houdini, Doyle and Stratton continue searching for more information to bring down a terrorist organization. They find themselves in America following Chief Merring's lead, and someone new comes aboard the investigation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second installment of the Fire, Meet Gasoline series. This takes place directly after the fist one, and is my take on what happens after the fade out on Episode 10. Please note that there may be errors, as I STILL can't find a way to re-watch the show. If you enjoy, please leave a kudos and a comment! I love to hear your thoughts.

Buffalo had been fascinating, but Pittsburgh held a certain charm Doyle couldn’t believe any city in America had the right to. Houdini seemed to be in his element, as the Steel City was home a decently large Jewish population.

He, alongside Houdini and Constable Stratton, were picking their way through an area queerly named Squirrel Hill. Vendors and civilians rushed past as the trio were trying to find a specific part of the small neighborhood. It was painfully obvious to all that the three were tourists; tourists that were on a hugely important mission. 

Despite Merring’s warnings, the truth was that Adelaide was far from being chucked from Scotland Yard. Quite to the contrary in fact as the case he had stolen from her proved far too difficult for the frazzled Chief. It was this very man who had showed up at Doyle’s door two weeks ago, demanding help. 

“Chief Merring!” Houdini had swept up to the curmudgeonly man with a thoroughly artificial smirk.

Arthur chided his friend and offered Merring a drink. The man declined and sat down uninvited. 

“How may we be of assistance?” Arthur managed to keep his tone polite, in spite of his growing dislike for the man sitting to his opposite. He caught Harry’s eyes for the slightest moment. The false grin had faded and was instead exchanged for an expression similar to what Doyle was feeling.

Merring threw a file on top of Arthur’s typewriter. “That damnable woman. The minute her application came into the Yard, I knew I’d regret hiring her. It seems that traditional laws and protocol do not pertain to your fair friend. The case is hers.”

Arthur was silent for a moment, not wishing to engage in a battle with this man. He could feel the politeness he’d forcibly intoned into his voice being stripped away with every word the man had spoken.  
Harry piped up, his tone tense with restrained anger. “She is a mystical woman. However, please help me to understand why you did not simply inform Constable Stratton this yourself? Why instead, did you approach us?” 

The Chief had the decency to flush with embarrassment. “After the way I spoke to her, I was a bit discomfited. It appears this conspiracy connected to her late husband operates globally, which she did mention at the beginning of the investigation. I’ve reached the end of my rope in terms of leads. There is just one left.” By the end Merring’s attitude had changed completely, genuine regret apparent on his face.

“Considering your earlier excursion to America not long ago, I presumed following this final lead may prove fruitful. You would be paid for your time of course, as consultants.”

Harry and Arthur regarded one another for a second. 

“One condition Chief,” Harry began, a mischievous smile returning. 

“Aye?” Merring raised a wary eyebrow. 

“If we return successful, with enough evidence to warrant arrests or even bring someone in ourselves…you will promote Constable Stratton.”

The Chief sighed, beaten. “You win, Mr. Houdini, but only if you do as you say.” The last few words served a warning.

When Arthur and Harry gave Adelaide the good news, she mislaid her customary decorum. She gifted each with hug and peck on the cheek, leaving both men blushing.  
They had neglected to tell her of Harry’s ultimatum.

The ship ride to New York took nearly a week. Harry of course used this time to work out kinks in a few of his illusions, much to the delight of nearly everyone aboard the ship. Adelaide researched and made notes, and Arthur struggled to write. 

He was thrilled to see both of his friends in much higher spirits now, Harry had only seen his mother once, but was able to fight through the delusion without being consumed. Since then, he had had no more sightings. Cecilia Weisz may now truly be at peace, along with her son.

Adelaide was the happiest Arthur had seen her since they’d met, regardless of her husband’s past stalking her still. This truly was her calling.

They were two days out of port.

Could he truly write about something out of the ordinary? He had yet to make peace with Holmes; Sherlock enthusiasts everywhere were never interested in his other works. Over the duration of the trip, he’d kept to his room mostly working on a new piece. He had nary a clue where it was headed, but he had written more in a short period than he ever had with Sherlock. A manuscript lay next to his typewriter, seemingly alive. It had been so long since anything he had written filled him with so much elation. Only now he’d hit a wall.

“Perfect.”

“What is?”

Arthur jumped out of his chair at the speed of sound. Harry was relaxing in the corner of the author’s suite shuffling a deck of cards.

Heart hammering, he strode across the room to face the magician. Harry looked up at him, blue eyes sparkling merrily.

“We have spoken regarding _this_ ,” he motioned at Harry. 

“You sure are breathing hard, Artie.”

Giving up, he turned to sit back down, only to find Harry in his seat. 

Unfortunately the piece he had been so ardently at work on was clearly visible. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, Doc. And we’ve spoken regarding _this_.” He gestured toward the page. “What the hell?”

“It’s purely a distraction from Holmes.” He was lying through his teeth. Harry knew that. 

Harry grabbed the paper from the typewriter and began shredding it. 

“No!” Arthur made to seize the rest of the manuscript, but of course he was far too slow. His friend held the pages threateningly in his hand. All traces of mirth had vanished.

“Please, Harry. You are well aware I’d never publish that.”

“You’re damn right!” Harry brushed past him angrily without another word and slammed the door as he left.

At dinner that evening, it was as though the scene in Arthur’s room hadn’t happened. Harry joked with him and Adelaide, and she was completely unaware how enraged one friend was with the other. Harry delighted the captain’s table with anecdotes and card tricks. Arthur surveyed him, astonished.

“Harry,” Arthur started after they’d wished Adelaide a good night.

They stood together at the railing, watching the ship battle choppy waters. The magician had his head buried in his hands.

“You promised me Arthur. I’m not sure how many times I can argue with you without completely losing my mind; and to go behind my back and start writing about me and my _powers_.” He paused momentarily. “Powers? That’s not real, Arthur. Every illusion is easily explained. Why are you so obsessed?”

Distress radiated through the doctor, followed by embarrassment. “Truly? You amaze me. And not in the way you amaze your admirers. Something about you begs to be researched, to be discovered. It isn’t the illusions that that I believe are magic.”

Arthur refused to look at Harry now. He couldn’t believe he had said that. After an unusual amount of silence, he looked up only to see Harry walking away. His heart stopped.

He couldn’t sleep that night, blaming it on the pitching of the ship. But in his mind his best friend walked away from him over and over again.

Over the last few hours of their voyage, Harry intentionally spent most of his time together with Adelaide, leaving Arthur to sit once again in front of a typewriter that had betrayed him.

****

Adelaide prided herself on her skills of deduction; even more so since she had formed a friendship with Sherlock Holmes’ creator. Therefore, Harry’s attempt to disguise his blowout with Arthur had not gone unnoticed by the constable. She played along waiting for a moment to speak with Arthur, who had been subjected to irate scowls from Harry that the magician failed to conceal regardless of his best efforts. She was unable to get a moment alone with him before the ship docked.

As they departed their final day, laden with luggage, there was a stark absence.

“Arthur, where’s your typewriter?” Adelaide made to return to the ship to retrieve it.

As the writer strolled past Harry, he said simply, “I threw it overboard.”

Harry and Adelaide joined together in a split second of shock. 

Harry caught up to him. “Arthur! You didn’t!”

“I did. Your friendship is worth more.”

He left Harry dumbstruck, with Adelaide rushing up beside him. “Please tell me he was joking.” His only response was a shake of his head, still astounded.

Following that, Harry and Arthur were on considerably better terms. The illusionist felt exceedingly guilty and vowed to buy his friend a new typewriter. Adelaide was annoyed that Harry had let something like a story about him create such a rift after everything they’d been through together.

On the journey from New York to Pittsburgh by train, Harry discreetly began to read the manuscript he’d stolen. 

He flipped through to find the title page. _The Edge of the Unknown_ ,He read out loud in a low voice when he found it.

Skimming through it, passages stuck out where Arthur made a note of Harry’s personality and quirks, something most people didn’t bother to learn about him. He also noticed segments regarding Adelaide and her fight to be a professional woman in a patriarchal society and Arthur’s vow to assist her in any way. He felt his throat go dry. So this entire text was simply Arthur describing to the world why the trio was best friends. Harry hoped he wouldn’t forget that again.

*****

The sight of Pittsburgh’s skyline in the evening stunned the trio as they exited the train station. It was distinctly modern, where London had looked the same for the last hundred years it seemed. Harry was reminded of New York, on a smaller scale, far less people crowding the streets. New skyscrapers reached for the clouds and dozens of bridges zigzagged across three rivers that joined together to form a Y. The air however, was markedly heavy. The smog in London was trifle in comparison. It started a couple coughing fits for them.

“Yinz’ll get used to it.” A mysterious voice floated from behind them, colored with local dialect.

“Sorry?” Arthur turned to the gentleman questioningly. 

“You’re a Brit! Haven’t heard that accent in years! Welcome to the States! And, oh…” His eyes scanning the trio had stopped at Adelaide, admiring her. “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat towards her, all traces of his dialect gone. Harry smirked at Arthur. “Are you from England as well?”

Adelaide smiled at the man warmly. “I am. Thank you for welcoming us. This city is a bit overwhelming. We’re not sure where we’re headed.”

“Well I’ll be obliged to assist you.” He kept shooting glances at Arthur and Harry, a hint of recollection in his eyes. “Have you a hotel?”

“The Schenley.” Arthur offered. 

The man’s eyes grew huge. “The Schenley?” he repeated. Squinting curiously, “May I request your names?”

Adelaide spoke first knowing she wouldn’t get the chance once the other two did.

“I am Constable Adelaide Stratton of Scotland Yard.”

“Constable?” 

Harry chuckled. He shook the man’s hand as he said, “Harry Houdini.” He bowed with distinctive flair as the man’s jaw dropped. 

Harry continued, gesturing towards Arthur. “And this is my esteemed colleague Doctor Arthur Conan Doyle.”

If it was conceivable, the man’s jaw fell farther. 

“We’ve just made this gentleman’s day!” Harry laughed. Arthur groaned to himself, it was getting late and he was sure there would be more gaping as they made their way to the hotel. There had been more than enough on the train.

“I knew I recognized you three! That explains the Schenley then. Well you’ll be heading over to Forbes Avenue. I’m sure I could hail you a taxi.”

As he turned towards the street, Adelaide grew puzzled. How had he recognized her? 

Her expression did not go unseen. “What’s wrong?” Arthur whispered.

“He recognized me?”

Arthur had not found it queer when the man had said it, but now…

“Let us be going!” Harry shouted from the cab where he was being accosted by the helpful gentleman. Adelaide and Arthur made their way to the carriage, but suddenly she whirled on the local.  
“May I have your name?” She asked, uncharacteristically sweet.

He blushed. “Of course! I was so awestruck I forgot to introduce myself. I am Phillip Green.”

She curtsied politely. “Well, Mr. Green, we are appreciative of your service!”

Once safely in the cab, Harry pounced. “You sure turned the charm up there at the end, Addie.” He cocked an eyebrow at her enquiringly.

“Jealous?”

“Hardly, just very unlike you.”

“He recognized me,” was all she uttered.

Comprehension dawned. “Do you know the name?” Harry shot a fleeting look at Arthur, who shrugged.

“No, but,” she pulled the same book the plain-faced man had tried to make off with so many moons ago. She combed through a list of names momentarily, and then gasped.

“Shit.” Harry slumped back. Arthur took the book from Adelaide and found what had upset her.

“Phillip Green. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States. Conspiracy informant, a frequent contact with Benjamin.

“He just offered his name up like that? Knowing who Addie is?” 

Arthur and Harry went back and forth while Adelaide berated herself. She had checked multiple times. How had she missed that name? She had hoped she would not find the name of first person they’d met when they arrived in this city; she had just begun her investigation. It seemed as though he had been stationed there just for their arrival.

The cab pulled up to the Schenley, resplendent in the night. Adelaide felt a chill although it was humid and hot in the summer air.

A bell hop unloaded their luggage and heaved it onto a cart. Once inside they were received by grandeur that would put the Metropole to shame. The hotel was barely a decade old, and it was apparent from the décor.

“I’ll get our keys.” Arthur nudged Harry and inclined his head towards Adelaide, who was feigning inspection of the opulent grand piano in the lobby. “Keep an eye on her.”

Harry sauntered over to Adelaide. “We’ll get him.”

Adelaide looked up to Harry and he was dismayed to see her eyes shining with tears.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! Don’t fuss over it. There are plenty of names you have there. Likewise, we should follow the lead that Merring gave us.”

Silently, she agreed.

Harry hesitated, and then put an arm around her shoulders. She tensed at first, and then ultimately relaxed.

Arthur returned, and raised an eyebrow at Harry. 

“I’m exhausted,” Adelaide announced abruptly, shifting from underneath Harry’s arm, and accepting her key from Arthur. “Till the morning?”

With that she was gone, the elevator doors already closing by the time the men caught up.

“Well,” Harry said hesitantly. “I suppose she is tired.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “What did you do? I didn’t say to molest her.”

“Molest her? I placed my arm around her shoulders Arthur; she was upset. What the hell else was I supposed to do?” He finished helplessly.

Arthur dipped his head apologetically. 

“It’s her first overlook but she’s taking it pretty hard. It’s bound to happen. That journal is full of names! How was she supposed to remember every single one?” Harry threw his hands up.  
The hotel lobby was beginning to clear. It was well past eleven now, but Arthur wasn’t remotely tired. He was worried about Adelaide, but it was unseemly to knock on her door when she had already bid them good night. 

Harry’s fidgeting told Arthur he felt the same way. “We could both go to her suite?”

He spoke as though this had been the answer to a conversation that they’d been carrying on with.

Arthur tensed; conflicted. In the end he nodded at Harry and they made their way up.

The butterflies in Arthur’s stomach fluttered uncomfortably. They didn’t speak as the elevator rose raucously. 

Neither one would knock. They had a silent fight outside her door for nearly five minutes before it opened.

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” The tears in her dark eyes had been replaced by frustration.

The two men stood looking at her, struck dumb. 

Finally, “We were worried.” Harry wrung his hands.

Adelaide rolled her eyes. Backing up, she wordlessly invited them in.

“Uh, the hour is a little late for us to call on a lady.” Arthur said apprehensively.

“Would you two just get in here?” She hissed, annoyed.

“Well if you insist!” Harry bounded in.

“Arthur?”

He was having trouble working his legs. Finally he stepped in.

She rounded on them when they were settled.

“You two are so ridiculous. I heard something outside my door, and I believed it to have been someone malicious. Instead I find two four year olds, looking as though they were scrapping over the last biscuit.”

Harry giggled. Arthur elbowed him in the ribs.

Adelaide crossed her arms. Was she seriously in charge of these two? Sometimes she preferred them when they were arguing. At least they left her alone.

“So what is it that you are so intent on bothering me with?”

“We told you, we were concerned.” Arthur sensed more irritation.

“Why?”

Both men were silent a second, a little dumbfounded.

“Addie, you were fairly distressed downstairs. It was quite a misfortune to just waltz by a man we determined to be involved in the case.”

“I am not wholly confident that he is.” Adelaide shook her head.

“His name is in the book!” Arthur exclaimed.

“His name is Phillip Green, that’s an incredibly common name. Pittsburgh is a decently large city; I presume that there are more Phillip Green’s.” She finished obviously.

“But he recognized you!” Harry stood now, still confused.

“No he didn’t.” She looked daggers at them both when they looked as though they were about to interrupt. “When he first glimpsed me, there was no acknowledgement. But his reaction to the both of you was genuine surprise. He’s not our Phillip Green.”

“I find that too much of a coincidence, Adelaide. Do you not think it odd his name was in the book, he was the first to speak to us after we disembarked from the train…?” 

“He said, I recognized you three,” Harry interrupted, jumping to Arthur’s defense. “You’re the one who noticed it!”

“Slip of the tongue.” Adelaide countered simply. “Perhaps he didn’t wish to be rude.”

Both men were thunderstruck; Adelaide never threw out obvious evidence.

Not wishing to argue further tonight, Harry and Arthur bade her good night once again, and departed.

“She’s planning something.”

“I know.”

Adelaide exhaled thankfully once the two men finally left her suite. Turning back to the desk, she sat down to finish the list her two overbearing friends had interrupted her making.

_There you are Phillip Green; right at the top. Do not imagine for a moment that I did not detect the fear in your eyes. Pittsburgh is large, but you can only run so far._

In the morning, Adelaide dazzled them with the information that she had obtained Phillip’s Green address. Though the two men were confused by her sudden switch of tack, they followed her nonetheless. Noting that perhaps they may not know Adelaide as well as they believed they did.

*****

“Are you sure this is the right neighborhood? That Phillip Green didn’t really look Jewish. Why would he live here?” Harry squeezed himself into the tiny space left at the counter; apologizing to Arthur for knocking him into his lunch. “Wow, I haven’t had traditional food since…” he trailed off, his eyes narrowing. Shaking his head, he continued. “Can’t exactly find this stuff in London, eh?” He raised up his bowl of Goulash and inhaled deeply. Arthur smiled. 

“I imagine more than the Jewish live here, Harry. This is to where Adelaide traced him. His address isn’t too far.” Arthur had never delighted in Jewish food, but the schnitzel he had chosen looked fantastic. Locating a table in the back of the tiny restaurant, Arthur dove into his dish before Harry and Adelaide had even taken their seats.

Adelaide chuckled at the sight; she had hardly ever witnessed Arthur forgetting his decorum. She had been a bit unsure of what to choose, leaving it up to Harry to decide for her. She was a touch wary of the soup he’d chosen; delicately she dipped her spoon into the unsettlingly red broth. 

“Wow!” She was surprised. “This is delicious!”

“Told ya,” Harry smiled as he tucked into his own dish. “My Ma made Borscht pretty often; I was one of the few of my siblings that really cared for it; so, more for me!”  
A clandestine glimpse between Arthur and Adelaide went unnoticed by their friend. It was the first time Harry had spoken of his mother without a fresh wave of pain clouding his eyes. Arthur smiled; his friend was finally beginning to move on. 

After lunch, they returned to the crowded streets of Squirrel Hill. Walking the acutely angled hills in the summer heat proved difficult for the trio, especially after a rather filling meal.

“Wow,” Harry shifted his jacket uncomfortably, and loosened his tie. “The humidity is outrageous here! Why the hell did we not hire a taxi?”

“That’s why,” Arthur pointed to the massive jam of carriages and to his disbelief, even a few automobiles. He was astounded to see so many of the horseless carriages here. They proved far more popular in America than Britain. _English stubbornness_ , Arthur joked to himself. 

“Ah, American innovation,” Harry grinned proudly, patting the nearest motorcar parked on the street. 

“Those automobiles unsettle me,” Adelaide remarked, throwing the vehicle a dark look. “They move far too quickly, it can’t possibly be safe.”

“Nonsense! I’m contemplating of buying one when we return to England…and maybe one of those flying contraptions being designed, as well.” Harry beamed at the owner of the automobile, who did a double take.

At this Arthur was shocked. “Now those things are dangerous. Good Lord, man! We were never meant to fly.”

“Maybe you weren’t,” Harry winked.

A few streets away from Phillip Green’s address, they stopped and took stock.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Harry asked, hands in pockets.

“We knock on the door to discern if he’s at home,” Adelaide stood up straighter. “If not, we find a way inside.” 

Arthur and Harry stared at her. “We’re going to break into his house?” Arthur asked, tentatively. “And what if he’s home?”

“Run,” Harry chortled.

“No we will not. Harry, you will delight him with of your stunning illusions to distract him, and we’ll pull him inside for questioning.” Adelaide dared them to protest, eyebrows raised.

“You think my illusions are stunning?” Harry flirted.

Adelaide didn’t even dignify that with a response.

“I do see a few flaws with this plan, Adelaide. We could be arrested for breaking and entering.”

“Or shot,” Harry supplied. “Or engage in fisticuffs.” At this thought, he donned that expression he always wore when he was about to do something dangerous. “Okay…let’s do it!”

“I am not going to get shot again because you like to toy with danger, Harry. There must be another way. Perhaps we could simply enquire to have a word with him?”

“I suppose; although that’s only valid if he is home. If not, we find a way in.”

Arthur conceded. Harry looked sullen; a chance to feel the rush of adrenaline lost again.

They proceeded to the front of a small, unkempt house. Eyeing the shuttered windows, Arthur felt his stomach drop. _Appears we’re getting arrested,_ he thought, disheartened. Adelaide straightened and knocked with authority. 

A few moments passed with no answer.

Harry bounced excitedly. “My turn!”

Around the rear of the house, a back door was expertly lock picked. The door swung open, squeaking slightly. Arthur pushed ahead of the trio, receiving an incredulous look from the magician.  
Once inside, they grew deathly silent, listening for any sign of someone’s presence. At last they were convinced they were alone.

“Where do we start?” Harry was springing with exhilaration. “I’ll try the basement.”

And he was gone.

Arthur and Adelaide shared a troubled look. “I suppose I’ll check for an office.” She headed upstairs.

The doctor regarded the dilapidated house, uncertain; perhaps the dining room?

He shuffled through papers stuffed into a drawer occupying a worn china cabinet. There was nothing; old records for doctor’s office visits and the like; nothing connecting him to a global scheme. He'd resolved to learning if the other two had had any luck, when he heard the key turn in the front door lock. He bolted upstairs to find Adelaide, leaving Harry to his own adept devices.  
“Adelaide!” he hissed at the top of the threadbare stairs. No response. Hearing the commotion of someone returning from work downstairs, his heart started drumming in his chest. Making a choice he threw himself into the first room at the top of the landing. 

“Arthur?” She was crouched near a desk. “Where’s Harry?”

“Still in the basement I’m believe.”

Downstairs a doorbell rang. A familiar voice rose through the floors. Adelaide’s eyes widened. “It’s Harry!”

Darting to the bottom of the stairs as quietly as he could, Arthur hid behind a half-wall shielding a view of the bottom stairs. He heard Adelaide’s shallow breathing behind him.  
“As I said, I got turned around out here. I’m sorry to disturb you. Perhaps you could assist me with finding my way?” Harry’s eyes darted from the Mr. Green’s to Arthur’s. Go now.  
Grasping her hand, Arthur and Adelaide rushed to the back door and outside into the heat. They crept around the side of the house, waiting for Harry to finish his deception. At long last, after Harry gifted Mr. Green with an autograph, Arthur heard the front door shut. A combined exhale escaped the two of them. Harry started toward the street, soon after Arthur and Adelaide joined him.

They didn’t speak until they were well away from the view of the house.

“That didn’t go well,” Arthur rubbed his face with vigor.

“Yes it did,” Adelaide waved an overloaded folder in front of them.

“Ha!” Harry threw a fist in the air in triumph. “So Arthur and I were right!”

Adelaide shook her head, smiling. “No I was right, I knew that he was the right Phillip Green. I wanted you two to get out of my room so I could research his address. You both worry about me far too much. I can handle myself. You may recall that you are my consultants, and that I am the investigating officer?”

Harry mocked looking crestfallen. “Are we really nothing more than men to string along, Miss Stratton?” 

She smacked him with the file. “No, you two idiots are my best friends.” With that, she turned to hail a cab.

Arthur and Harry exchanged grins.

Sheltered from the heat at last inside the cab, they discussed their next move and the contents of the folder.

“How did you find that so fast, Addie?” Harry slouched on the seat, leaving little room for Arthur.

“Well, Mr. Green must be a low ranking lackey. It was sitting on top of his damned desk.” She flipped through the contents, pleased. There undoubtedly was more information hidden throughout the house, but for now they had a fair amount to work with. Along with Merring’s lead, the investigation into finding at least one member involved with the plot was going better than she imagined. 

Arthur took the file to peruse. Harry leaned forward towards Adelaide, grinning. “I’m proud of you, Addie. It may not been a flawless plan, but it worked. And I suppose I’m not really one to talk.” Arthur snorted. Harry continued, shooting the writer a look. “We’re getting along fine, I imagine.”

“Thank you, Harry. I daresay we are as well. I’m always amazed how you manage to simultaneously insult and compliment me.” She laughed.

“What? I never! There was no insult there!” 

“Relax, I was only teasing.” 

“So then,” Arthur closed the file, changing the subject. His two friends’ occasional flirting made him faintly uncomfortable. “What now?”

“Merring’s lead I suppose. I could arrange a meeting with him, hopefully tomorrow.” Adelaide accepted the file from Arthur and replaced it within her bag. She took out another file, this one detailing the location of the lead, and instructions on arranging a meeting. “This man lives directly in the city; somewhere along the North Shore.”

“Who is this fella exactly? How does Merring know we can trust him?” Harry appeared skeptical.

“He was a detective at Scotland Yard some years ago. He moved to the States to follow this group’s movements there. He sends information occasionally, marking new activity. In the years prior to the recent incident in Buffalo, they’d been uncharacteristically quiet. Now there’s a flood of information coming in, but having this evidence from someone on the inside, however unimportant he is in the grand scheme, is invaluable.”

“Right then,” Harry clasped his hands. “So we find this man, and he points us to one of the main conspirators, eh? Perfect. But why isn’t the American government aware of this?”

“Aside from the episode in Buffalo, they rarely operate in the States; they have a main base in some other country where they control the movements of their operatives. Very few of them are based in America. Besides, the American government is aware now, what with the attempt on President McKinley’s life. However Scotland Yard has been given jurisdiction since all of this began in Britain.” Adelaide replaced the other file now, starting to feel the lack of sleep. The humid air was doing her no favors, and the adrenaline rush had died away.

Arthur detected her fatigue and offered for them to return to the hotel, to start again tomorrow. Adelaide smiled at him gratefully.

The trio retired to the hotel’s dining room for an early dinner, American cuisine so foreign to the two Brits but enjoyable nonetheless.

They bade each other goodnight rather early; all three exhausted from the past few days escapades.

*****

Adelaide was pleasantly surprised that Arthur had picked up on her hint, although she felt guilty deceiving her associates. She had set the appointment up for that night to meet the former detective, and had been afraid she’d have to conjure up some believable excuse. For this case, some things she’d simply have to do alone. 

In spite of not possessing the nature of skill that allowed Harry to maneuver stealthily, she did well to escape the hotel without notice. After today’s adventure, she assumed the other two would be fast asleep. She hailed a carriage and was well on her way, case file in hand.

She had received a message in the early hours of this morning, instructing her to meet him discreetly near the Carnegie Technical Schools campus, in a pub with an odd name. While Adelaide felt slightly concerned about walking into a pub in an unfamiliar city without backup, Merring assured her that the contact was trustworthy. _But what about the other residents of this strange city?_

The school’s shadow loomed over the carriage, alerting her to her arrival. The pub was situated on the other side of the campus, not far from the Schenley, so the ride was brief but far better than walking. Inhaling deeply, she steeled her resolve and made her way to the saloon. A vague description given by Merring as to the contacts appearance did not particularly help her as she stepped into the dimly lit establishment. Mercifully it was not so late, as well as a weekday, so the bar was not over full. 

A moment of tense searching was unneeded as the man she presumed to be the former detective approached her. Drawing herself up, she nodded authoritatively at the man.

“Scotland Yard?” he intoned almost inaudibly. She noted his accent was nearly gone; was he attempting to blend in? He had not lived in the States long enough for it to begin to diminish. 

She inclined her head in response. He directed her to a table near the back, and she felt tension edge in. Automatically, she reached to remind herself she was carrying her baton.

Once seated, the man ordered a scotch, and Adelaide declined. As soon as the bartender turned away, the man smiled genuinely.

“A female constable, eh? Times are a changing!” He accepted the scotch and continued. “I was informed that you’d have two male colleagues accompanying you. Did they disremember the time?”

Adelaide smiled back, feeling more at ease. “No, sir, they did not. I elected not to include them in this meeting, as they are both civilians.” She drew out the file, and handed it to him.

“Well, Constable Stratton, I’m impressed! This is new information to me. May I ask where you came by this?”

“A man named Phillip Green greeted us at the station when we arrived two nights ago. Something he said alarmed me. When I went through the journal of names I had compiled, his name was listed. My consultants and I went to his home and searched for evidence, where I confiscated that folder before he returned.”

Still scanning the file, he had an inscrutable expression cross his face. “Breaking and entering to gather evidence?”

Adelaide stiffened.

“I approve!” he laughed. “Similar to my, uh, _tactics_ back at the Yard. Don’t make a habit of it though; you’ll end up with your badge seized. I would know.”

Adelaide was shocked. “You had your badge confiscated? Merring informed me that you were discharged from service honorably.”

“Oh, he would; looks better on the records. He gave some bullshit excuse that I was no longer fit for duty due to the strain of the profession. Anyhow, they frown upon not collecting evidence within lawful parameters. So if you’d like to remain a constable, or even be promoted, I’d go about getting a warrant in the future. However with your situation, I believe that would take far too long. Don’t need the local police nosing in on this besides.”

She nodded, receiving the file from him. “Are you able to provide any more information that would be useful, that I don’t possess currently? I can only go so far with this unfortunately.”

He sighed, eyeing at the bottom of the empty scotch glass. “Well, I actually have a proposition for you. I do have more information; in return I’d like to come onto the case as well.”

Adelaide sat in stunned silence for a moment, but then abruptly realized how rude she was being. “I…I’m not sure I have the authority to make such a decision.”

“You don’t. But I could wend my way in, like I always managed to do back in the olden days.” He continued to scrutinize the glass. She noticed he was not a great deal older than her, maybe mid-thirties; though he looked as if he had aged within the last few minutes.

“I should likely weigh the options with my colleagues,” she was unsure what else to say.

“Aye. Seems like a good course of action. I’ll undoubtedly just give you the evidence anyways; I’m not interested in derailing the course of this investigation simply because I’m a disgraced former officer with a penchant for elbowing into places I don’t belong. I can at least provide aid while you three are in the States; nonetheless, expect this case to bring you to some strange places back in Europe. If you do accept my proposal, I could be of service there.”

Finally he looked up at her again, and she was suddenly very aware of how green his eyes were. 

After wrestling internally, she decided. “I would like to bring you aboard, though I’d like to forewarn you that my colleagues are…rather eccentric.”

He chuckled. “So am I. Why be normal? I’ll give you a day to discuss it with them. After that, I’ll provide whatever information I have, whether or not I’m invited into the party. You have my word.” He rose to see her out the door.

“Till we meet again, Constable Stratton,” he tipped his hat respectfully.

Suddenly Adelaide realized she didn’t even know this man’s name, Merring strangely hadn’t provided her with one.

“You never offered me your name, and I was so nervous I neglected to ask.”

He chuckled again. “No matter. I don’t use my real name anymore, easier to work underground.” 

Adelaide was suddenly reminded of someone similar, who would be furious once he’d learned she had ventured out alone.

“Just call me Carlisle for now. It was my grandfather’s name, dreadful isn’t it?” He grinned. In the light of the lampposts, she saw a more handsome man than she had inside.

She flushed slightly, thankful it was nighttime, and wondered if it was becoming commonplace for no one to use their real name anymore, her included. “Well Mr. Carlisle, I thank you for your assistance. I will speak with you shortly.”

He hailed her a carriage and made sure she was safe inside before flagging one down for himself.

On the short ride back, she collected her thoughts. On one hand, having another associate, especially one with a background in law enforcement, would be invaluable. On the other hand, Doyle and Houdini were a handful by themselves. Was she really up to being the force holding together an assortment of now three strong-willed, independent, and infuriating men with wildly different views of the world?  
It wasn’t long before she was settled in her suite, frankly amazed she hadn’t drawn the notice of either man in the suites adjacent to hers. They must be sound asleep.

Once her thoughts were organized, she allowed herself a moment to think about the detective. He seemed genuine, or was she just feeling the first indications of attraction? She shook herself mentally; there was no time for such frivolity. If she wanted to succeed as an officer, her mind had to be on the case and the case alone.

Breakfast the next morning proved more difficult than she’d hoped. Thankfully, the café was full, so she figured at least once she managed to tell them that she had snuck out and met with Mr. Carlisle last night; they had no choice but to rage at her quietly. It was a small comfort.

The conversation was light, but it wasn’t long enough before Arthur finally asked the dreaded question. 

“The detective you spoke of yesterday, were you able to arrange a meeting with him yet?” 

Adelaide didn’t answer immediately, which drew Harry’s attention from his breakfast; he raised an eyebrow.

“You must promise not to get angry,” she requested lamely.

Arthur dabbed with a napkin and laughed. “Whenever one of my children say something similar, it usually culminates in my anger.” He looked directly in her eyes. She could only imagine Mary or Kingsley confessing a misdeed to their father, terrified. “So?”

“I met with him already, last night.” 

Harry whistled lowly. Adelaide would have congratulated him on finally learning, but she knew it wouldn’t go down well. She did not possess the ability that allowed the magician to diffuse anger in tense situations. 

Arthur inhaled consciously, an intense gaze darkening his typically warm eyes. She truly felt as though she was about to be chastised by her own father, something that had occurred regularly as a child. He hadn’t felt that a pursuit of criminal justice was the right choice for his daughter, or for any woman. But early on she was drawn to it, researching old cases when she should be studying music or practicing needlework. After his feigned suicide, she had wondered if the universe had led Benjamin to her, allowing her to eventually take the path she had dreamed of as a girl.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his rose in irritation. “I suppose I cannot berate you in front of everyone, indeed I know it would have no effect. You will do as you will. However, to traverse an unknown city, to meet with an unfamiliar man, is folly. Harry and I were prepared to accompany you as per usual.”

Adelaide knew she had to be firm. “If I am to gain any credibility as a law enforcement officer, I will have to do it on my own merit. Having you two escort me to every meeting, like strange chaperones, will make that difficult. I must demonstrate that women are capable of far more than what is considered acceptable by society. It pains me to think that I may have only come this far because of men perceiving me as a novelty, not because I’ve worked so very hard at pushing the boundaries as far as I can.”

Harry shifted in his seat, and fixed her with an unreadable expression. “I’m confused. Why are Arthur and I here with you then? I was under the impression that we two _idiots_ are your best friends, so you’ve said.”

“You _are_ my best friends. I do require your help, and you can of course escort me occasionally; but there are parts of this case that I need to investigate alone, and as civilians, you two are really not supposed to be involved. You have been granted special privilege, but this is a confidential case; there is information you ought not to be privy to.” She smiled warmly, hoping this would placate them, for now at least, “But I am always grateful for your support.”

Arthur and Harry glanced at each other, partaking in a silent conversation. 

“She was successful without us,” Harry surmised; looking back at Adelaide, “Was he worth the effort?”

Adelaide glanced at Arthur before she answered. He still looked a little bothered, but otherwise had lost his maddened air.

“Yes he was. He has asked to join the investigation. I told him I would confer with you two first.”

Immediately, Harry was incensed again. “Oh, well, for so abhorring constant aid from men, you sure do attract a lot of them,” he scoffed. “I am so pleased however, that you would deign to convene with us to discuss it.” 

Adelaide shot him a glare. “The only reason that I _attract_ men is because there are no other women in the field! I have no choice but to accept his offer, since he has gathered a great deal of information that is vital to this investigation. If we are to avoid another assassination attempt, this is our only option.” She glared at both men now, daring them to challenge her again.

Arthur turned to Harry. “Have you finished antagonizing her? If that is our only opportunity to shut this operation down, then that is precisely what we’re going to do. We should meet with this man as early as possible to determine our next move.”

Harry threw his napkin down in defeat. “Whatever you’d like; all the same, we’ve solved far more bizarre cases than this one on our own.”

“We have; nevertheless the magnitude of this case requires far more support. I doubt Mr. Carlisle will be the only hop on.” Adelaide was glad to see Harry accept the situation. She needed them to be at their best for their sakes. 

“Mr. Carlisle, eh?”

“It isn’t his real name,” she looked at Harry pointedly. “He uses a pseudonym to grant easier access to information without sacrificing his safety.”

Harry scoffed again. “I use a stage name, that’s different. Anyhow, we’ve been bickering for over an hour; time for Arthur and me to make Mr. Carlisle’s acquaintance.”

Adelaide smiled, satisfied. “I shall send him a message.”

That afternoon, the three of them made their way to the North Shore to meet with Mr. Carlisle. Yesterday’s sunshine was replaced by a disconsolate rain, which only worsened the humidity, making the carriage ride from The Schenley to the house on the North Shore stuffy. 

Adelaide knew she wasn’t completely off the hook just yet; she kept seeing Harry and Arthur throw each other skeptical glances. Allowing Mr. Carlisle to join the investigation was only fueling this fire that she was barely keeping under control. She could only hope that he would remain professional.

After a rather uncomfortable journey, the carriage pulled up the long drive of a well-appointed home. Adelaide checked the address again, had she misheard him?

“Wow, being a British spy has it perks! I’m in the wrong profession.” Harry mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. “It’s too damn stuffy in here, let’s go!”

Arthur regarded Adelaide for a moment, his look indiscernible.

“Please trust me, Arthur. Are you going to remain cross with me forever?”

“I’m not cross; I’m just not sure what we’re getting ourselves into. This seems far too glamorous a home for someone so determined to remain disguised.”

She sighed, silently agreeing. 

Making their way to the front door, the trio became increasingly uneasy. Something felt wrong.

“Let me,” Harry implored Adelaide when they reached the entrance. “Just in case.”

She acquiesced reluctantly.

The bells rung deep inside the house, and someone made for the door. It swung open revealing a well-dressed Mr. Carlisle. He beamed at them.

“There you are! Thought maybe you three were turned around. Please, come in!”

He held the door as they entered, Adelaide passing last. 

“I know,” he started, noticing her expression. “I thought you might be suspicious when I gave you the address; not exactly a clandestine location, eh?”

Inside, they were greeted by warm décor. A tray of tea and biscuits was brought in by a butler, and offered to each.

Waving at the tray, Mr. Carlisle smiled. “I asked you here during afternoon tea, would be rude if I didn’t offer. Please be seated, so we can begin what I’m sure is going to be a long, arduous project. I was thrilled when you accepted my offer, Constable Stratton. Forgive me, but hiding in this house, however beautiful it may be, was starting to wear me thin. I was never one to settle in one location.”  
He turned to Arthur and Harry. “So I am to join forces with the famous Houdini and Doctor Doyle! I can’t say that wasn’t a critical factor in my decision to offer my service.”

“Then you were already aware of who my colleagues were when we met?” said Adelaide, surprised. 

He blushed slightly. “Chief Merring did tell me, nay, _forewarn_ me,” he laughed. “I don’t think he’d like you to know how much he respects you three. Returning this case to you, Constable Stratton, was a mark of veneration. I’m sure he’d like you to think otherwise, however.”

“Yeah,” Harry smirked. “He’d like for us to think it was too much for him. He tried to play it off, acting like an old man reaching the end of his career. I’ve seen him bolt after suspects like a man my age. And I’m told that I’m dramatic.”

Mr. Carlisle chuckled. “He was never one to show his true feelings, especially if it involved praising someone. That man will die at Scotland Yard, but it won’t be for many years.” He turned to Adelaide. “You’re doomed to have him a chief for decades to come, I think.”

“As long as he begins to show some faith in me, and any women who’d like to follow this career path, I take no issue.” Adelaide said blithely. 

The conversation turned back to the case, and Adelaide was pleased with the amount of information Mr. Carlisle was able to give her. She was also contented to see the three men getting along well; Mr. Carlisle’s pleasant nature was contagious. _This may work better than I anticipated_ , Adelaide smiled to herself. She found it hard to believe that he and Merring would butt heads, but she didn’t know the whole story. 

Nearing ten o’ clock that evening, Mr. Carlisle stood, impressed after Harry had refilled his scotch glass with no other means than by magic.

“I have one other piece of evidence that I need to present to you three. This is the fruit of all of my efforts here in America.” He lifted a single sheet. “The next stop on our global tour to fight terrorism,” he smiled dramatically. Harry applauded, and Adelaide and Arthur laughed. Mr. Carlisle bowed theatrically.

“I imagine none of you have ever traveled to Hungary?”

Adelaide and Arthur looked at Harry knowingly.

He raised his hand. “I was born there, in Budapest,” he said simply. “Haven’t been back since.”

Mr. Carlisle was astonished. “I was under the impression you were American!”

“My father brought my family and me here when I was four. So, unfortunately, I’m sure I won’t be of much help. I can hardly remember it.”

“Well, any insight on the country will be useful, however slight. I have some contacts there that will assist us, in any case. But from what I have gathered, the leaders of this organization are based there, so that is where we must begin, and hopefully end. I cannot begin to fathom what they have planned for the future, it is well guarded intelligence.”

“Would another search of Mr. Green’s home garner anything else useful?” Adelaide questioned.

Mr. Carlisle bit his lip. “It’s doubtful. He’s a very small part of the operation, a pawn if you will. I daresay any more sensitive material would be stored there.”

“So, Hungary it is then.” Harry shook his head, unbelieving. He glanced at Arthur, who offered a consoling smile. Harry returned it, though with less zest.

Why did he feel as though this meant he was to return to his birthplace, like life was guiding him back to his origins? There was nothing for him in that country.

Adelaide shifted uncomfortably. Was she in over her head with this case? She had initially felt so triumphant when Merring had relinquished it to her. Perhaps she had taken on too much, too soon...

Arthur sighed. Were his children going to be grown by the time they brought this operation to a halt? They had lost their mother, and now, their father was off having adventures, much like the fictional man he had grown to hate.

Carlisle was ecstatic. He was relishing a chance to finally leave America on a daring case. And to join the first female constable, a famous magician and a world renowned author, he couldn’t have asked for more.

The arrangements for their return to England were set the next day. All four were nervous for various reasons, and a collective sense of foreboding hung over them, even the mysterious man who never let anything get him down. 

Two days later, Pittsburgh saw the departure of four people destined to either dissolve a terrorist organization, or die trying. A hazy, blood red dawn bid them farewell, swallowing the train as it began the journey to New York. 

Back at Penn Station, a man named Phillip Green, who had been surveying the group covertly, ran to send a telegram.

 

_The spy has joined them._


End file.
